“You have no such—” Alice began, turning. Her words dried up at the sight that greeted her.
A tall Roman soldier bowed. “Mark Antony at your service, Queen Cleopatra.”
Over his mask, he wore a gleaming gold helmet topped with a crest of red feathers. Over a short red tunic, he wore a leather cuirass that was molded to his powerful chest and hard, flat belly. A symbolic gold eagle covered his heart.
Instead of trousers he wore a kind of kilt made of strips of leather studded with brass medallions. It ended at his knees—his bare, brawny, naked, masculine knees.
She dragged her eyes away, but couldn’t help wondering whether Roman generals wore the same thing under their tunic as Scotsmen were reputed to. She clamped down on the thought. She should not be thinking of such things.
A short red cloak hung from gold buckles at his shoulders, dangling rakishly behind him. His tanned, powerful arms were bare, and a broad gold armband was clasped high on one muscular arm, while thick leather bands encircled his wrists. On his feet he wore red three-quarter-length boots.
He looked powerful, barbaric and magnificent. The sight of him took her breath away.
Mark Antony, Cleopatra’s famous lover. He couldn’t have known what she was wearing to the ball, could he? That gleam in his eyes told her otherwise.
“Who told you?”
He pretended puzzlement. “Told me?”
“What I was going to be wearing tonight.”
He laid a dramatic hand over the eagle on his breastplate. “There was no need for anyone to tell me, O Queen. It was in the stars—we are fated to be together.”
“Nonsense.” She told herself he was just playing a part, but there was a note underneath the playfulness that sounded worryingly sincere. “It can’t be a coincidence. Somebody must have told you what I was wearing tonight.”
“You’re right. It was a little bird.”
“What little bird? Not Lucy?” She’d be very disappointed if it were.
“No, your goddaughter didn’t give anything away, not knowingly at least.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and they strolled around the room.
“If you recall,” he continued easily, “you had a troop of small visitors the other day—it is very kind of you to allow them to visit the garden whenever they want, by the way—and they saw certain gold-painted items drying in the summerhouse. Later, when they told me about their visit, they asked a lot of questions. Questions like ‘Who was Cleopatra, Papa, and why would she wear snakes on her head and arms?’ Which was interrupted by, ‘Shhh, it’s supposed to be a secret!’ which received the indignant rejoinder, ‘I’m not talking about thecostume, just the lady. It’s history. We’resupposedto learn about history!’ ”
She couldn’t help smiling at his vivid re-creation of the scene. “And so you put two and two together.”
“And sent my valet out to scour London for a costume. You will be astonished to learn that uniforms for Roman generals are quite thin on the ground.” He glanced around and murmured in a secretive tone, “Don’t tell a soul, but this costume is actually Caesar’s.”
She laughed. And feeling bold, she directed a pointed glance at his legs in the short tunic. “Don’t you find it rather drafty? That short skirt thing.”
“Skirt thing?” He leaned back in feigned horror. “Would you call a proud Scotsman’s kilt a ‘skirt thing’?”
She shrugged. “If I didn’t know what it was called, probably.”
“This”—he touched the red fabric—“is called a tunic.” He paused. “And these dangly leather straps are called, I believe, ‘dangly leather straps.’ The official term, you understand.”
“Ah, I see,” she said, attempting solemnity through a bubble of laughter.
“As for whether I find it drafty, I don’t, here in this crowded ballroom—though I suspect it might be wise to eschew the more vigorous of the country dances. But on a windy day I suspect these dangly leather straps would come in handy. Protection in more ways than one.”
They strolled on. “Do ladies find them drafty?” he asked. “Dresses, I mean.”
“Our dresses are much longer.”
“So they are, but what about ladies who have not yet adopted the newfangled underwear our late, lamented princess popularized...”
Alice felt her cheeks warm. Princess Charlotte had scandalized some and thrilled others when she’d adopted the wearing of drawers. Most ladies wore them these days, but not the old-fashioned types, or those whose parents were rigid moralists, like Papa. The church considered the wearing of drawers by ladies as scandalous and immoral, drawers being items of clothes designed for men.
Then there were people like Thaddeus, who subscribed to the medical opinion that drawers overheated ladies’ female parts and thus made it more difficult for them to conceive.
